


Clear Like Ice; Clear Like Song

by Rainwater_Apothecary



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Always, Autistic Evan Hansen, Crushes, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Implied Self-Harm, Jared Kleinman Being an Asshole, M/M, Pining, Teen for Swears, fuck jared kleinman, negative self-talk, off-screen flashback attempted suicide, self-indulgent skating fic, singing sometimes helps people bipass their stutter, teenagers pining, the murphy's are rich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainwater_Apothecary/pseuds/Rainwater_Apothecary
Summary: Two boys help one another realize the dreams no one knew they had.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	Clear Like Ice; Clear Like Song

Ice flew past the twin blades on Connor’s feet as he carved along the ice. The frigid air cut through his lungs and tapped at the window of his thin sweater that was now drenched with sweat.

He had to physically push his hair out of his face where it had become plastered to his forehead. 

His earbuds began to hurt his ears from the cold and he rolled his eyes angrily. 

He could afford to buy the rink if he wanted, but all he wanted today was to practice. Practice and run himself ragged. 

Sliding (read as: slamming) into the reinforced plastic in front of the away team’s penalty box, Connor Murphy stepped off the ice. 

Beating his blades (figure, not hockey, which his family would know if they so much as _looked_ at any of his awards or photos.) with his fingerless gloves, he took a swig from his water bottle. 

He leaned forward and rested his sharp chin on his interlaced fingers and closed his eyes. 

Evan. Evan Hansen. 

The kid was pretty, Connor admitted that much to himself. He also had to admit to himself that he was ecstatic to learn the other boy’s name. 

It had happened today in AP Chemistry. Alana Beck (he knew the name because it was at the top of all their assignments beside his messy scribble of a signature) looked up and cried the boy’s name when he showed up in the doorway of their lab. 

Connor tried not to drop anything flammable at the sudden appearance of his- of the blond boy. 

Evan. Evan was his name. 

Connor had no idea why it had to be _him_ that caused his heart to flutter in his ribcage like that shitty Meg and Dia music video (the song was catchy, sue him). 

(Actually, don’t sue him, his family’s lawyers would bury anyone idiotic enough to start shit with Larry Murphy, prosecutor at law.) 

But it was. 

And now he knew the boy’s name. 

He’d been carrying a flame for the other kid – Evan. For Evan. 

He opened his eyes and sighed, filling the air with clouds of his warm breath. 

Long fingers pulled wet hair from the back of Connor Murphy’s neck before he let his thoughts return to Evan Hansen. 

This time he had been carrying an (unplugged) bunson burner. Not necessarily an Olympic torch, but an amusing parallel just the same. 

He took in the bright white cast – completely blank of scribbles (like his name on the top of all those papers) and names (like his own. 6 letters. C o n n o r. He wouldn’t even use his last name. Maybe even add those stupid initials in a heart-). Yeah. He saw it. 

He wondered what could have happened over summer vacation that got his boy-crush _that_. 

Because he didn’t have it at the end of the previous year. 

……………or the year before that. 

Seemed healthy enough, Evan did. What the fuck was he, Yoda? Healthy he is, mMm. What the fuck. 

His left leg flopped to one side as the blade tipped over. He sighed and replaced his leg, planting pointed elbows heavily on his vulnerable thighs. That would bruise. 

Whatever. 

Evan Hansen. 

It was simple. Straightforward. A lot like the other boy looked – because god knows Connor hadn’t gotten up the nerve to actually _talk_ to Evan after the kid surprised him in sophomore year and he’d shoved him to the ground. 

Yeah. 

He hadn’t realized it was Evan (Evan. He knew his _name_ now!) behind him when he turned and threw the kid down. 

He didn’t take being touched (or crept up on or teased or…yeah) very well, and Evan (Evan Hansen!) had done all three. 

Well, he had tapped Connor on the shoulder from behind and asked him to sign some petition or something, when Connor had spun on the balls of his foot, grabbed Evan (Evan!) by the wrist, tripped him, and left him dazed on the hallway floor. 

Then he had ran like a little bitch who had just jitsu-thrown his crush to the ground of their public high school. 

…Pretty much exactly like a little bitch who had just jitsu-thrown his crush to the ground of their public high school. Yeah. Not his best moment. 

At least the kid (Evan!) had stopped flinching around him. 

So that was …something. Something pathetic, but still something. 

Connor pulled his earbuds out of his ears by the cord connector and sighed again. 

He wasn’t getting any more practice done now anyway. He’d let his legs get cold while sitting there daydreaming. 

On stiff legs, he stood up and awkwardly made his way back onto the ice where he could glide to the other side. Sea legs and all that noise. 

As Connor Murphy sat untying his black figure skates, first unlacing one then the other, removing one and wiping off the metal with the dry washcloth he packed, clipping on the blade guard, then removing the other, a singing voice came to him. He swore under his breath. He’d forgotten to put his earbuds back in once he’d entered the heated seating area. 

Looking up through his long, black hair Connor Murphy came face-to-knee with the white, fuzzy pants of the boy who apparently worked at the rink part-time. 

From white sneakers streaked with blue, up to the white socks, to the fuzzy white pants to the white and blue striped polo- 

Oh god. 

Evan Hansen worked at his rink part-time. 

His cast was still blank, from what Connor could see of it while Evan carried one of those large yellow-with-a-red-top water coolers that are used at sporting events. 

The other boy hadn’t noticed him. 

Thankfully. 

Maybe he could- 

Evan screamed and dropped the cooler with a thud. 

“I’m s…s…orry, s…” 

Connor blinked. How hadn’t he noticed his boy crush had a stutter? 

How had he overlooked that? 

It was… 

It was fucking endearing is what it was. 

Goddamnit. 

“..sir.” Evan panted, obviously straining to get the words out while under duress. 

“No worries, Ev.” 

Big, blue eyes went even bigger. 

“You kn..ow my n…name?” 

Oh god how and why was his heart fluttering like he’d just ingested an entire tankful of fish. 

“Well yeah, we’re in the same year at school.” 

Roll your eyes, Murphy. Seem like you don’t care. 

Pretend like you didn’t spend the entire last three hours losing your cool over this boy because you just learned his _name_. 

Pathetic. 

Evan was picking at his collar and waiting for something. Maybe a good enough excuse to leave this awkward as hell conversation with a fuckup of a bully who wore guyliner to school and now showed up to his workplace after hours in figure skates and a bad attitude. 

Well, less of a bad attitude than normal, but skating was his release. 

Well, his ‘healthy’ release. 

Even won medals for it, back when he was in competitions with some regularity. 

“S….” Evan rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration. “D...don’t j-judge m…me.” 

Connor raised an eyebrow and continued removing his right ice skate. 

Then the boy he was already head over heels for began to sing. 

Not a lot, just enough to give his words a little bit of a melody. 

“So do you skate much, Connor?” 

What? 

He felt the outside of his eyes grow cold from how wide his eyes had just gone. 

Evan Hansen (!!)’s voice was beautiful. Clear and high and …and beautiful. 

He wanted to skate to it. 

Where did that come from? 

He hadn’t planned a set in… _years_. 

Besides he – 

-He should probably respond to the yellow-haired _angel_ who was _literally singing_ to him. 

Shrug nonchalantly, Murphy. 

“Yeah. Not so much anymore, but it’s a good stress-reliever.” 

Evan looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, but not in an eye-rolling kind of way more a ‘oh my god he’s honest to _shit_ putting thought into something he, Connor Murphy, _said_ ’. 

“Never thought of sports like that, but I guess physical activity can clear the mind.” 

Connor was two seconds away from fucking _swooning_. Evan had called it a _sport_ , not a _hobby_ or some girly thing. 

He was still talking. Well, singing. 

God Evan Hansen really was beautiful, wasn’t he? 

Of course he is. 

“I prefer climbing, but to each their own!” He smiled. 

Evan Hansen (!!!!) smiled at _him_. 

Connor Murphy had seen him smile nervously when talking to his lab partner (‘Evan! Evan Hansen, how _are_ you?? I’m doing just great-“) and how hurt and betrayed he had looked after Connor _leveled_ him in sophomore year. 

But not this. 

He could have never _dreamed_ of something like _this_. 

When Evan Hansen (Evan Hansen!) smiled, like, _truly_ smiled his big, round cheeks made his eyes crinkle closed and his nose did this adorable little wrinkle and- 

And Connor fucking Murphy was in _trouble_. 

“C-limbing?” Climb me, I volunteer. My mom has bridge on Wednesdays and Zoe has 4-H and my dad is _never_ home we can make this work- 

Evan flapped his (perfect, soft-looking, perfect for holding) hands in excitement and answered in that wonderful voice of his. 

“Yeah! Trees, mostly.” _My mom calls me a tree all the time, Evan._ “Although I started getting into rock climbing and bouldering over the summer.” 

Christ he just looked so _happy_. 

“A real outdoorsy type, eh?” Connor felt himself returning the bright smile with a small grin of his own. 

“Yeah! I interned with the National Park Service over the summer and it was really great! Not a lot of people understood me, but we all understood the trees and their upkeep and stuff. So it really coulda gone a lot worse!” 

He was so adorable. 

How did he not have admirers lined up around the block waiting to talk to him? 

Oh right. 

Because he didn’t talk. 

Not at school anyway. 

“So do you work here?” Smooth move Murphy. He’s obviously volunteering. 

“Yeah. I don’t have a lot of bills but this job pays them and they don’t mind that I don’t talk and keep to myself.” 

“Pretty sweet gig.” Connor felt his cheek start to hurt from his little grin. Evan Hansen … Evan Hansen … Evan Hansen made him smile. 

Zoe would give him shit for this if she ever found out, undoubtedly. 

Which was why she just would never find out. 

Simple. 

Easy. 

He should reply to whatever Evan Hansen had just asked him. 

“I don’t have a job or anything, so that’s pretty cool. I guess.” Smooth. Keep him guessing. 

“Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime! I don’t know what your schedule is or anything, but I’m here pretty often.” 

“Maybe. I’m here all the time.” Lies and falsehoods, but if he could see Evan Hansen _and_ get back into competing shape then hey, win-win. 

Then Evan smiled at him again and once Connor had helped him pile the cooler back into his arms he went back to work with a spring in his step. 

God Connor had it so bad for this kid. 

\- 

True to his god-damned-word Connor was at the rink every day until he figured out his blond-haired-angel’s work schedule. 

It was for competing, he told himself. Not stalking. Competing. 

He’d started taking his skates to school with him, deciding it wasn’t worth the energy to bus all the way back home (and risk having to deal with…anybody, really. Anybody who could get between him and his rink time) just to pick up his skates and his skating hoodie and…leggings. Leggings he had bought on the down-low so that his dad wouldn’t call him any more of a fruit than he already was. (Yeah, Evan Hansen would be a _huge_ hit with his dad. Ugh. That was a headache he didn’t need. He would just live in his own little bubble of skating and skating-assistant-based bliss.) 

He’d gotten back up to small jumps in the time it took to sort out that Evan Hansen worked on Tuesdays and most Thursdays. 

His skates needed to be sharpened more and more often by the time he learned that Evan and his mom worked there sometimes, as a labor of love. 

He was actually picking out songs on his way to and from school to choreograph to when he realized Evan was making more and more time to talk after he got off the ice. 

They still didn’t talk at school. 

Connor tried not to let it get to him too much. 

Evan’s cast came off before Connor had a chance to sign it. 

He let that get to him. 

“You should’ve told me it was coming off soon, Evan. I woulda’ signed it for you.” Heidi Hansen didn’t look up from where she was sharpening his now-getting-beaten-up-from-use black figure skates. His birthday wasn’t until October so maybe he’d have time to get a new pair before his dad got him some sort of shitty hockey skates. Expensive, top of the line skates, but still _hockey_ skates. No toe pick. Because _girls_ and _queers_ figure skate. 

Well, sign him up for the latter then. Heidi didn’t look at him strangely for his type of skate, and Evan’s face lit up when he managed to catch him after practice. 

Evan stacked the red on-ice walkers into a neat pile and dusted off his hands. Connor handed him the rag he used to dry the things and he smiled. 

“Would you have been seen with your name on a loser’s cast at school?” Evan’s smile told Connor he was jokingly saying it. Connor saw the truth behind the smile faster than Evan could write it off though. 

“Hey. We’re both losers, you know. Don’t sell yourself so short.” 

He looked over when he felt eyes on him, his skate guards spinning around his index finger absently. 

Connor felt like he was hit in the chest by a wall of blue when his boyfriend’s- 

Too soon. 

When Connor Murphy got the full force of Evan Hansen’s searching, sober gaze. 

“Connor. We’re not the type of people to be seen together at school. As much as I would love a friend in that hellscape, I don’t know if your social life would bounce back.” 

That was something Connor was learning about Evan: He had a very level head and a self-degrading world view when he was allowed to show it. 

It brought the figure skater up short. 

Neither boy noticed that the grinder had finished its work on the black pair of figure skates. 

“Evan…” Black hair was pushed back before the taller boy sighed and helped Evan to his feet. “Trust me, if we hung out at school it wouldn’t be _my_ popularity that would tank.” 

Evan blinked at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” 

Connor huffed a laugh and put his wrists on his skinny hips. 

“Hi, I’m Connor Murphy, I wear black and leveled my only friend the first time we met.” He snorted and shook his head. 

He froze. 

“What?” Backpedal, Murphy- 

“You…you think we’re friends?” 

Okay Murphy, time to pretend your life isn’t crumbling to ashes if Evan Perfect Hansen doesn’t think of you as his friend. It’s not the end of the world- 

“Well yeah. Should I not?” He raised one eyebrow, attempting that patented Connor Murphy nothing-bothers-me-I-feel-nothing mien. 

If Connor Murphy could remember the first time he heard his little sister laugh, or the first time he saw a rainbow, or the first time his dad had patted him on the head he would have put the look on Evan Hansen’s face up there in the same caliber as those. 

The look on Evan Hansen’s face was like looking at the sun after a spring rain has passed. Children wait at windows to go out and play beneath the light of Evan Hansen’s budding emotion. 

Then he smiled. 

“I would love to be your friend, Connor.” He laughed like a tinkling of a bell and held out his weird post-cast farmer’s tanned forearm. 

Connor felt a relief unparalleled by anything in his short-but-still-somehow-far-too-long life. 

“Well then, Evan Hansen, good luck getting rid of me.” 

When they shook on it Connor didn’t throw him over his shoulder this time. 

When he pointed that out Evan clapped his hands and laughed in his clear, perfect tone. 

The ball was now in Connor’s court. That was the phrase, right? He wasn’t a sportsball gay, he was a figure skating queer. 

A figure skating queer who now had a best friend. 

Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Murphy. 

Just because the both of you have no other friends… Yeah, they were pathetic. 

Well, Connor was. Evan just had some pretty hardass setbacks. 

What was Connor’s excuse? 

He liked his alone-time is his excuse. 

Connor Murphy kept a very well cultivated personal bubble, thank you very fucking much. 

A very well cultivated personal bubble that he now made one (1) glaring exception to as he set his lunch tray down beside his friend. 

Evan looked up and jumped in surprise. 

Then he smiled. 

“Ooooooo Hansen’s got a _boyfriend_! Wait til mom hears about _this_ one!” The artificial shutter click of a phone camera made Connor’s heart leap up his damn throat. That was fucking _fast_. 

He glowered up at the intruder. He picked apart his roll in as weighted a way possible while Evan fought with his traitorous tongue. 

“Sh…shut u.p, Ja…a…red.” 

Connor’s chair tipped to the side and clattered _hard_ against the speckled floor when he saw Jared mocking his friend (friend!) and crush’s speech impediment. 

This ‘Jared’ got Connor’s boney forearm to the windpipe, knocking him onto his ass with his juice spraying across his stupid cargo shorts and his stupid glasses and the stupid students behind him. 

Connor Murphy told him to fuck off and crossed his arms to lean one hip against the table. 

He was a figure skater. His legs were weapons even without their highly-sharpened blades. 

Bring it the _fuck_ on. 

“F…FOOD F-FI-IGHT-“ Evan called out at his side, making him jump. 

The girl who had gotten juice in her ponytail’s boyfriend had been rounding on Connor then relaxed his brow and smirked, venom still in his gaze. 

Then he slam-dunked a fistful of mashed potatoes into Jared Kleinman’s head. 

Connor blinked and then Connor smirked. 

Then his slice of pizza was frantically wrapped in a napkin before his unopened milk carton was tossed to the wind like a hand grenade. 

Evan burst out laughing in the twinkling, bright way he had as Connor grabbed his hand and ran. 

Somehow the eggs from Evan’s chef’s salad were thrown left and right as the boys hauled ass towards the swinging double doors. They high fived when one of the yellow and white halves made the attending teacher duck behind the doors they were streaking out of. 

“Where did you learn to _aim_ like that?” Connor huffed, hands on his knees in the back courtyard of Who-Fucking-Cares-High. 

Evan held his stomach as he leaned back and laughed. It was a good look on him. 

And why the hell had Connor never noticed that his crush (and best friend!) had freckles all across his nose and down his cheeks? Was there any on his neck? Would Connor ‘I’m really fucking gay, damn’ Murphy have little targets to place his kisses on? 

No, not now Murphy. 

“I- Ah-“ The shorter boy was wheezing and his shoulders were bouncing. 

Connor felt that smile they’d teased out since August together begin to grow across his (tragically not freckled) cheeks. 

Quiet music reached his ears as he internally debated if Evan Hansen would like freckles or not. Facing facts, the kid probably hadn’t had a boyfriend or girlfriend before with how hard he had it making friends and even just _speaking_ , so he didn’t have anything to compare against. 

Evan was singing. To him. Outside of the rink. 

“It’s a latent talent, I guess! I used to skip rocks at my dad’s family’s lake house but…” The light went out of those beloved, freckled cheeks. Bad blood on the dad front then. 

Connor could relate. 

Time to pull his friend outta the dumps. 

“Well, you’re on boiled egg duty in the coming food war, soldier.” He saluted. 

Evan cackled. 

\- 

Connor couldn’t keep his goddamn skates beneath him today. 

Picking himself up off the ice for the _fifth_ time today, he glowered out over the ice gouged in ever-expanding circles from his failed attempts at triples. 

He wanted to kick something’s ass. 

He wanted to still have ankles to kick somebody’s ass. 

But he mostly wanted to land that goddamn Salchow. 

“Connor?” 

Oh goddammit. 

Connor Murphy dusted off his palms and glided over to where his friend stood in the stands. He put pink-tipped fingerless gloved fingers onto the banister on either side of Evan’s. 

Brown eyes met blue as Evan’s brow crinkled in worry. 

“You’ve been in here for a while, buddy. That looks painful.” 

God Connor wanted to kiss the concern off of the other boy’s face. 

He sighed in frustration instead. 

“I can’t fucking land my jumps.” 

Evan raised an eyebrow. 

“Like an axel or something? I've heard those are hard.” 

Connor pushed out from the wall enough to lean forward and stretch his back and his legs. 

“Sorta. There’s a handful of jumps that a pro skater has to have in their repertoire and in a competition we have to be able to do them all in a row. I can’t do them all in a row today.” 

He felt something touch the back of his head. 

“Ev don’t do that, I’m all sweaty.” 

His friend patted his head anyway. 

He didn’t flip him onto his back and trip him over his skate. 

He didn’t even think it. Just tensed at the contact then sighed and relaxed into it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

Connor Murphy’s heart stopped. 

Now or never. 

“Uh yeah, probably, actually.” 

Evan made a little inquisitive hum. It was cute. 

The skater took in a shaky breath and said it. 

“Will you sing for me? To skate to, I mean. Only if you want to.” He looked up through his wool-covered forearms when the patting paused. 

Evan was blushing. Probably from the temperature. 

“You want me to sing for you?” 

“Not if it’s weird or anything I’m just looking for music to skate to and your voice is relaxing so maybe I could do… jumps to it. Forget it, it’s stupid.” 

“No, Connor, wait! I would love to! I’m just not a professional singer or anything…” 

Evan watched as the biggest, most genuine Connor Murphy smile light up his best friend’s face. 

He settled a tremoring hand over where his heart danced against his rib cage and focused on his friend’s – God he wanted them to be more than that, not that friends wasn’t good enough. He just… He wanted to hold his friend’s smiling face and kiss it until they were both breathless and Connor would look at him with hooded, love-warmed brown eyes and… Keep it together, Hansen. 

“It’s enough for me, Ev.” 

Oh Evan wanted so badly to be enough. 

Just for Connor. 

His mom didn’t understand it, hadn’t stood up for him to the Kleinmans and their brushing over of his troubles. Nor his coworkers who didn’t care that he had wandered off one day after lights out and didn’t come back even though the night was cold and he was staring up at the dark canopy several stories above, alone and sobbing to himself while his arm throbbed and numbed in turn. 

But Connor had never been anything but Connor. He’d shown up to skate until he figured out Evan’s schedule so they could hang out more. The rink had to stay open later on nights the skater trained, so Evan and his mom got to spend time together while they closed up around the lone boy making silent movements on perfect planes of ice. 

Then he’d been seen with Evan _in school_. 

Had stuck up for him. 

Had remembered him. 

So if his friend wanted him to sing so he could skate and not worry – If Evan could give that to him… 

Then hell _absolutely_ yes, he would sing. 

“What should I play, buddy?” 

Connor shrugged and floated backwards on the ice in that odd display of gravity that came from putting weight on only part of your body. 

His friend took to the center of the rink, closer to Evan than not, but still pretty far out. His skinny arms came up to frame his face while he looked down, his shoulders sticking out through his thin hoodie. 

Evan drummed his fingers in a ribbon over the bright red divider. 

What was something Connor would know? 

What was something he could pull out at the drop of a hat? 

He knew. 

Connor Murphy leaned his head back and laughed, his shoulders shaking and his hair cascading as the sweet, pure voice of his best friend started belting out Three Days Grace. 

He could work with this. 

Evan thanked his mother and everything that had ever looked out for him growing up for the voice lessons he’d gotten before his dad cut off child support and they couldn’t afford it anymore. 

Without such lessons there would have been no way in hell that Evan Hansen could have kept on beat when his friend landed quad after quad. 

The two boys met halfway, Connor slowing just enough so as not to brain either himself or his best friend and Evan unlatching the penalty box door just in time to catch his ecstatic and steaming friend. 

Their chests collided with audible sound as the boys laughed into one anothers’ hair and encircled the other in the stupidest, sweatiest, most elated hug they had ever had. 

“Thank you, Evan. God that felt good.” 

“You were amazing! I didn’t know people could actually do that in real life! On TV it looks so hard!” 

Connor pulled back enough to smile at his friend, cheeky glint forming in his eyes. 

“You watch skating?” 

Evan blushed and forgot to sing when he stuttered through the beginnings of a million and one excuses. 

“Who’s your favorite skater?” 

“M..michelle Kwan.” 

Connor nodded in approval and patted him on the back. 

“Wait until you see Yuzuru Hanyu, kid. You are going to _die_.” 

Evan’s hands began flapping in excitement and god did Connor want to kiss him. 

-

Evan’s hands shook as he reached out and ran reverent finger pads down the microphone in front of him. It was velvety and had the round consonant muffler in front of it and everything. 

And he was going to record. 

He was finally going to record a song! 

He thought the chance had slipped through his fingers when his mom sat him down and told him past her heartbreak that he would have to stop taking voice lessons. 

But now he had an audience. 

He had his mom and he had… 

His hand shook. 

He had Connor. 

Evan Hansen took in a shaking breath and nodded to the owner of the little music store downtown through the glass. 

The owner nodded back and dropped the cd onto the recorder. The light went on and Evan Hansen let the excitement and joy flood his veins, let his smile color the words he’d slaved over for _weeks_. 

Connor had asked him if he could have a recording to skate to, not even professionally unless you’d like to… you have a great voice, Ev. 

He almost broke down and smooched his best friend then and there, on the concrete steps behind their school. 

Connor was giving him the excuse to sing again. The permission to. 

He was _asking_ Evan for the very thing Evan had been wanting to give since he was very young and very, very alone. 

So he sang. 

And Connor skated. 

With all that they had. 

-

Figure skating and voice lessons swept the two boys up and didn’t let them down. 

Evan laughed into a microphone as Connor’s feet danced on the ice, little steps that looked designed for jazz. 

Connor’s long, long legs cleared the ice and pushed him skyward while Evan tapped the back of a pencil against his lip late at night over a notebook that was quickly filling with more and more beautiful words of love for a boy who danced along the ice while his music held him in Evan’s arms. 

Evan spun words while the disc shone in loops around the recording laser. 

Connor tucked his arms in tight to spin himself faster and faster, skating circles around the competition and ducking into sit-spins that made his friend dizzy just watching. 

Until Connor was leaning against the counter at his ‘home rink’ as pro’s call them watching Heidi sharpen a new pair of figure skates (that he’d traded in the obligatory designer hockey skates for, of course) and Evan handed him a clear cd case with shaking fingers. 

“H…ere, C-C…onnor.” He would sing, but he was letting his throat rest after the grind he’d gone through for the lone track on the disk he’d just handed over like it was his still-beating heart. 

Frankly, it might as well have been. 

“In Case You Don’t Live Forever’? Sounds rad.” Connor grinned. 

“L-l..isten t-to it l..later, okay?” 

The skater raised an eyebrow but agreed. 

It was time for Connor to know the truth. 

It was time for Evan to know the truth. 

Come on Murphy, it’s only been three damn years. 

No big deal. 

God fuck and damn. 

He stopped mid-jump, his sneakers hitting the gravel of the park he was jogging through. 

God. How was he going to _do_ this? 

How do you just walk up to your best friend and tell them ‘Hey so you’re basically everything to me and I owe my future career to you showing up when I was ready to throw in the towel? Ready to hang up the skates forever and just jump off a damn bridge?’ 

He sighed and rested his forehead against his knees. 

Actually. 

Why couldn’t he just tell Evan that? 

…Why couldn’t he just tell Evan that. 

So he had a script, that was good. He could work off a script. 

He closed his eyes and hit ‘next’ on his mp3 player. 

Connor Murphy froze as Evan Hansen’s voice came through his cheap earbuds and flooded his head with all the words he could never tell himself. 

Evan’s voice wove and spun him in its strong tones, vibrato slamming his point home and where his best friend’s songs usually sounded like he was smiling and laughing during them, this one sounded like Evan was… Well, like he was close to sobbing. 

For _Connor_. 

He didn’t have to look at the track name that popped up on the tiny screen. 

The song told him everything he needed. 

In case Connor had died to his own hand, or something happened that stopped them from being able to talk… If he didn’t live forever, his Evan Hansen wrote this song to bridge the gap between their souls, wrapping Connor up in a love that he could have never felt before, because it wasn’t a gift he had ever been given before. 

He didn’t need a script anymore. 

Evan stood outside of the rink’s back doors, his soul spinning so frantically inside of him that he felt his skin humming. 

Then boots crunched through the snow behind him and it was time. 

“Evan.” 

“C…con-nor.” 

Suddenly his arms were full and his mind was empty. 

Connor Murphy was kissing him. 

Connor _Murphy_ was holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world and the only source of warmth in the whole wide world outside. 

And Evan was kissing him back just as brokenly and holding his thin frame with arms made strong from hanging on where just last summer he would have let go. 

“W….wow.” 

Connor chuckled into the small spans of air between their gasping lips. 

“Me too, Ev. Me too…” 

Evan was cut off from asking if Connor was crying by his lips being swept into another electrifying kiss and warm, strong embrace. 

“Y-you like it, I take it?” The beautiful blonde sang quietly as his best friend cupped his cheek and he leaned into it, catching snowflakes on his eyelashes. 

“More than you will ever wrap your head around.” 

Okay, that did it. 

Evan burst into tears and Connor Murphy missed each and every one of the younger age groups in his competition to kiss, hug, gossip, and kiss his boyfriend so much they both went dizzy, in the best of ways. 

Then they held hands all the way to nationals. 

\- 

‘If you don’t live forever’ didn’t leave their hearts until it finally played over the loudspeakers to drown out thousands of audience members and commentators in every language on the globe. Evan was listening to the words in as many languages as he could as his husband skated towards the podium at the Manila Winter Olympics in their twenty-fifth year. 

They wouldn’t live forever, but they were going to live what time they got together. 

And it was going to be beautiful, and great, and strong and clear. 

Clear like ice. 

Clear like song. 

Clear like the matching diamonds on their ring fingers. 

Evan cheered twice as loud as his husband took the podium while thousands of miles away Connor Murphy’s father looked up and wondered aloud if he’d remembered to buy his son the hockey skates he’d been meaning to give him. 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> "In Case You Don't Live Forever" is a beautiful, heartbreaking single by Ben Platt about his grandfather.


End file.
